


the way you use your body (baby, come on and work it for me)

by qiras



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, also you know how abortion was a thing in the original?, and background rose/tbd female character, and it's violent homophobia in the first chapter, anyway the rest of it is going to be mostly smutty fluff, background finn/poe - Freeform, because it's not overt but it's still set in the sixties?, hm, homophobia is a thing in this one?, it's a dirty dancing au that's it, no one is straight is the moral here, smuff? flut?, sorry? it's just. yeah., there will be a lot of smut later, this is not high literature, uhhhhh lets see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-19 01:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qiras/pseuds/qiras
Summary: the year is 1962. benjamin organa solo is supposed to be spending the summer with his parents, at a resort that pretends it isn't a resort, the sort of place rich people go to when they like to pretend they aren't rich. he's pretty sure it's going to be the worst summer ever-- until he seesher. rey niima, eighteen, and a dance instructor at the resort.a dirty dancing au.





	1. be my baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benperor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benperor/gifts).



> this is all abby's fault.
> 
> there is some homophobia-based violence that occurs in this chapter. homophobia is gonna be a topic that i deal with in this fic because for one thing, i feel like i need to, personally. if that isn't your cup of tea, don't read. if you think you would like this but are concerned about the events of this chapter, the part that i personally think would really be triggering begins at hux walking in and goes until poe, finn, rose, rey, and ben are together in poe and finn's cabin. that begins with rey saying "mr. hux won't fire you." and i'll put a brief description down in the notes of those events if you need to skip them or if you need to judge whether you'll be able to read it or not. stay safe, kiddos!

Ben Solo, at twenty-four, is much too old to be spending the summer with his parents at a resort. Yet that’s precisely where he finds himself on a warm day near the end of June.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the nasty incident his first year of law school... Well. He regrets the last year of his life for several reasons. The determination it had instilled in his mother that they “be a family” is comparatively low on the list. Hopefully, the two months of his life that this will take up will be low on the list as well.

Still... he meets Mr. Hux and his son Armitage, who own the resort, and thinks it might not be as low on the list as he’d like, especially if his parents wish him to befriend the insufferable Armitage.

“Ben,” his mother whispers during dinner. His father is off charming someone, Ben is sure, probably out of some cash. Not that he needs it. Just for the amusement of the whole thing.

“Yes, Mom?”

She reaches out and grasps his hand. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t really your idea of fun.”

“What could be more fun than spending a summer _here_? With my _parents_?” he says dryly.

“And to show you how grateful I am that you agreed to come,” Leia says, raising her eyebrow, “I’m going to let that one go.”

Whatever Ben might have said next catches on his tongue, though, with the sound of music echoing through the room and two people beginning to dance. They must be employed by the resort, because no one who doesn’t dance for a living could possibly dance like that. As the son of a politician, Ben has taken some dance lessons, and he could last a few minutes on the dance floor without embarrassing himself, but nothing like _this_. The young man is of a height with the woman he’s dancing with, looks Latino, maybe? And he’s attractive enough, but Ben’s attention is focused entirely on the young woman.

Her dress is a pretty, floaty, pink thing that swirls around her long, slender legs, but it’s plain, adding to his suspicion that she must be an employee, and she wears a pair of heels that are just formal enough for dancing, but again, simple. She has an attractive figure, slim and willowy, but her eyes are what really captivate him. They glow gold in the dimmed light of the ballroom, and Ben's never been one for cliches, but he’d swear her eyes sparkle with life and laughter. And the way she looks at her partner, it’s obvious they like and trust each other, and an irrational stab of jealousy shoots through him.

Mr. Hux gives the two a stern look after a truly incredible move that involves the man throwing the woman through the air and catching her gracefully, and they separate, moving instead to dance with patrons of the resort. It is confirmed, then, that they must be employees, probably teaching the dance classes he’d noted on the schedules.

“Hey, kid.” His father stands awkwardly by their table.

“Who’d you con out of their money this time, old man?” Ben takes a drink of his water, not really caring to hear an answer to his question.

Han looks offended. “I never con, only persuade.”

“Han, you didn’t...” Leia squeezes her eyes shut.

His mouth opens in half-mock hurt. “Of course I didn’t. I was just having a very interesting conversation about airplanes.”

Leia raises her eyebrows. “Yes, that does sound like you, doesn’t it?” She tugs on his hand. “Sit with us.”

And he does, for a few awkward, tense, mostly silent minutes. But Ben is watching the dancers.

Well.

One dancer, in particular.

The music fades away and she and her partner leave the floor and he’s possessed with the sudden need to find her, talk to her, learn her name, her whole life story, everything about her-- but he doesn’t want to be a creep. He really, really doesn’t want to be a creep. So instead, he’ll probably just-- “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he tells his parents. “My head hurts, and I think I just ought to sleep it off.”

His mother’s mouth twitches downward. She tries her best to hide it, but she can’t, not from her son, who has been studying her face for insight into her mysteries since he was born. “Alright,” she says instead. Ben kisses her on the cheek and shakes hands with his father, a little awkwardly, then leaves the main house.

The night air is still cool and crisp against his skin, still too early in the year for the oppressive heat of summer to remain unbroken by the night. It's a beautiful night. There are no clouds, no buildings, no city lights. He can see the stars just as clearly as if the sky were but a piece of glass covering them.

And still, he stares at the sky without really seeing any of it. He hears the river without hearing it, feels the wind without feeling it. It's like his whole being has been submerged in the freezing, barren, dry cold, and it's being warmed, slowly, but it's hard and _painful_ to feel things, like hot water being run over his icy limbs.

“Fuck!” a feminine voice whispers, and he sees a girl ahead of him on the path struggling with... something. Between the distance and dim light, he can’t quite tell what.

Still, he jogs ahead to offer to help her, because his mother raised him better than that. He catches one watermelon right as the short black-haired girl drops it.

“Thank you!” she gasps. But her spine stiffens as she looks at him and Ben knows she realizes he’s a guest, not an employee.

“You’re welcome,” he says, aiming for casual and probably falling short of it by several centimeters. She isn’t one of the rich kids whose daddies got them a summer job here. None of the girls who work here are. It wouldn’t be dignified for a proper _girl_ to have a job like this, of course. So maybe... Maybe she knows the dancer girl. “Where are you going?

“Nowhere,” she says, walking right past him. “Now, if you’d please return the watermelon.”

Ben’s eyes narrow, and again, for the first time in almost a year, he feels something aside from pain or disinterest-- curiosity. “I don’t think I can, in good conscience,” he tells her, quickly overtaking her with his long strides. “My mother would disown me if I didn’t help you... Hang on, what’s your name?”

She sighs, and with narrowed eyes, says, “Rose. My name is Rose. And you are.”

“Ben. Nice to meet you. Well, Rose, my mother would have my hide if I let you struggle with these watermelons all on your own.” Rose quickens her pace, but Ben easily keeps even with her.

She stops.

Ben nearly trips over his own feet trying not to run into her.

Her eyes and lips narrow to thin lines in her young face. She jabs a finger at him. “Fine. You can come with me, as long as you promise to keep your mouth shut.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he promises cheerfully.

Rose rolls her eyes and keeps walking. They follow a little stone path up to a large structure that Ben thinks might have been a barn at one point, though he’s not sure. At any rate, the boarded windows make it obvious it’s unused by any guests or administrators at the resort.

But the sounds emanating from the building make it obvious _someone’s_ using it, low bass thumping and voices and laughter becoming louder as they ascend the stone steps. Rose stops in front of the door and tells him very solemnly, “I’m dead fucking serious. Don’t tell anybody you were here, or I’ll personally see to it that you have a very unpleasant life.”

He resists the urge to bite back that his life is already unpleasant, and instead just nods. Rose pushes open the door, and he’s not sure what he was expecting, but this isn’t it. These people are all young. In fact, he’s probably among the oldest there. All young, and all dancing with each other, but not the way he’d watched the two dance on the floor in the dining room, not the way he’d been taught to dance for his mother’s political functions. This is something he’s never seen before, not even at the vaguely raucous parties he’d been to as an undergrad student. Girls are grinding down on their partner’s thighs, loose and unhurried, but with a fire and steadiness all the same.

What shocks him the most, though, isn’t the near-blatant sexuality of the whole scene, or the ages of the crowd, or even the potentially smuggled alcohol and cigarettes. No, what shocks Ben the most is how free everyone looks.

In his life, in his experience, people must always be aware of the image they present to the outside world and control it, control how they are viewed by other people. If their image is unfavorable, they will be rejected and it will negatively affect their career, so everyone in Ben’s life has constantly and consistently worn different masks, being who they think the people around them want them to be. It’s an exhausting way to live. He’s never known anyone real, known anyone who was just... _themselves_ , without considering whether that was who they ought to be or not.

And Ben has been to South Korea and Hawaii and Yellowstone. He’s seen Old Faithful erupt, seen the Eiffel Tower, the Coliseum, the Mona Lisa, the Grand Canyon, and the Great Pyramids in Egypt. Yet this room of uninhibited, unconcerned people dancing carelessly and thoughtfully all at once-- it’s more beautiful to him than every wonder of the world put together.

They set the watermelons down on a table just inside the door. He watches a girl-- _the_ girl-- as she throws her head back, lets her shoulders sway. Her hips roll beautifully against her partner's, and that same stab of jealousy shoots through Ben again.

Aiming for casual, and probably missing it by several hundred feet, Ben asks Rose,“Who... uh... what... I mean... who are they?”

Her lips curve up in a very uncomforting smile. “Her name is Rey, with an ‘e’,” she tells him with a glint in her eye that is eerily like his mother’s. “Rey Niima.”

His lips silently form her name and he finds he likes the feel of it in his mouth. “And who is he?” Ben asks.

But Rose has discovered Ben’s motives, and she will not be thrown off by his question-- that is obvious when she says, “Oh, that's Poe Dameron. You'd think they were going together, wouldn't you?”

Ben whips his head round to stare at Rose so fast that every joint in his neck pops. “They aren't together?”

“Nope!” Rose informs him far too cheerfully. “They grew up together. I'd say they're closer to siblings than lovers. Besides, he’s seeing someone else, and she's never been interested in him like that.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, Rey!” Rose calls across the room. “Come say hi.”

She straightens and turns on her heel, bright smile on her freckled face, as she immediately walks over to Rey. Poe follows in her footsteps. A young black man falls in step with Poe, and the three of them walk together to where Rose and Ben are standing near the door.

“Hey, Rose,” she says in an English-accented voice that’s just as pretty as the rest of her. “Who’s this?” Her head tilts toward Ben, but she doesn’t look at him.

“Ben,” Rose says. “A _guest_.”

“You brought a _guest_?” Poe demands. “What were you thinking?” Ben notices the black man grab Poe’s hand, and Poe leans back from Rose a little bit, toward the man holding his hand.

“I was thinking he wanted to come, I needed help, and he seems okay,” Rose says calmly. “I carried a watermelon,” Ben blurts, tongue heavy and stupid in the face of Poe’s aggression and Rey’s beauty.

Finally, finally, she looks at him and smiles, slow and sweet, despite whatever it is he knows she must be holding back. “You seem alright, Ben. What’s your last name?”

“Solo.” “Solo,” she repeats in a way that reminds him of how he said her name earlier, like she’s testing the feel of it on her lips. “Well, Ben Solo, you wanna learn how to dance?”

“I know how to dance,” Ben says. “I’ve taken lessons.” Even as he’s saying it, he wants to stop, because that can’t possibly be the way to impress her, no matter that some overpowering, reactionary part of his brain said it was.

Rey laughs, high and clear, and Ben can feel himself staring at her stupidly, but he can’t seem to make himself stop. “I don’t think you’ve learned to dance like _this_ ,” she says.

He ducks his head. “You’re right; I haven’t.”

“Come on then.” Rey sticks her hand out without hesitation. “Let me show you.”

Ben reciprocates, although his hand shakes as he reaches toward hers. Their fingertips touch, and it’s stupid, but he could almost swear he can feel the sparks. Then her hand closes more firmly around his and she pulls him away from her friends and onto the dance floor.

He can still see Poe, Rose, and the black man whose name he doesn’t know staring after them. “They don’t like me,” he says.

“Who? Finn, Poe, or Rose?” Rey asks, but her attention is very clearly on their hands.

Finn must be the young black man. “Poe and Finn,” Ben answers. “I think Rose tolerates me, at least. I don’t think she likes me, though.”

Rey hums. “You may be right about that. They’re suspicious of anyone upper-class, but I can’t blame them. We get put through some nasty shit,” she says, and Ben isn’t sure if its her statement or the offhandedness in her tone that bothers him more. “But I trust Rose’s judgement. If she says you’re okay, then you’re okay.”

Ben stares. It’s difficult for him to imagine knowing and trusting someone like that. But he doesn’t say that, because even he knows that would be wildly terrible to tell a cute girl you just met. Instead, he says, “Thanks.”

Her mouth twists into a little smile. “You’re welcome,” she says. “Now come on.” She grabs his wrists and places his hands on her hips. “You hold me here.” Then she circles her arms around his neck and rolls her hips into his thigh experimentally. He hisses, and she giggles. “It’s okay. I won’t burn you.”

Which is nice of her to say, but that’s not exactly what he’s worried about; his jeans are growing tighter and he doesn’t want Rey to notice. They’re just dancing. He needs to fucking control himself.

“Loosen up a little.” She places her hands on his chest and pushes him. “Come on, move with me.”

Ben’s eyebrows furrow and he bites his lower lip as he focuses on the movement of her body. He watches carefully for a few seconds and then moves, cautiously swiveling his hips in a near-perfect imitation of what she’s doing.

“Good, Ben,” she tells him. He can feel her breath against his skin and in spite of all his best efforts, his pants tighten even more. “Just like that.”

God, the way she’s talking really isn’t helping. Why couldn’t she ask about his mother or the priests at the Catholic school he’d attended for high school or done absolutely anything but purr into his ear like that?

“Okay, you think you can kick it up a notch?” she asks, and he nods, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do when she smiles at him like that? “Don’t do exactly what I do.”

“Oh, you noticed that?” Ben grins a little and glances down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“No, it was smart to do that to start.” Rey places her hand under his chin and his heart stops. She tilts his face up until he’s looking her in the eyes again. “But you can do much better. Stop thinking so much.” She brushes some hair out of his eyes and this is definitely what a heart attack feels like, dear God, he’s dying for sure. “Just... listen to the music. _Feel_ it.”

She closes her eyes and her movements become sloppier, less controlled. She throws her head back again, bending herself over his hands, and _no_ , he is not thinking about how flexible she obviously is. Instead, he lowers himself with her, careful to keep an inch of air between their chests. Her breath catches in her throat. He can hear it. “Good,” she says breathlessly. “Uh. Good instincts.”

Slowly, he pulls her back upright and holds her closer. Ben starts using his hands to guide the movement of her hips and she sighs and lets him. Her eyes fixate on his lips, and he starts to lean down, just a little, like there’s something magnetic and powerful drawing them together, and somehow, he knows that the moment their lips touch, his life will change forever.

Then there’s a loud bang as the door flies open and several people Ben recognizes from the dining room march in, led by Armitage Hux. He smiles coldly, and the room seems to have dropped several degrees in temperature. There’s a scratching noise as someone halts the record machine. “Hello,” he says, and Ben’s only heard one other person make that one word sound so threatening. It makes his stomach clench. “Is everyone having a good time?”

Poe steps forward, hands outstretched placatingly. “Now, now, Hux, you said you didn’t mind if our crew used this place to hang out after work hours.”

Hux sneers. “You think I care if a bunch of filthy rats spend their free time in a filthy barn? On the contrary, I find it quite fitting. But you see, Dameron, I’ve heard some unfortunate things, rumors I would hate to find were true. We can’t have you infecting the guests with your unnatural, immoral behaviors.”

“ _Immoral_?” Poe laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, Hux, we’re just dancing. That’s what you hired me to do, remember?”

Hux gives him a brief, insincere smile at the joke. “I do recall. No, I’m not referring to whatever activities you may have been indulging in before I came in. I’m referring very specifically to you and Mr. Trooper.” Hux points at Finn-- Finn Trooper, Ben assumes.

Poe stares at him in what Ben thinks is a very good imitation of blankness. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hux steps forward. “You two fags have been fucking all over camp. Did you really think no one would find out?”

Poe matches Hux’s step forward. “Why don’t you keep that slanderous mouth shut before someone has to shut it for you?”

At a snap of his fingers, two of the biggest men move forward.

Poe laughs. “Oh, I see. You couldn’t possibly dirty your hands yourself, so you gotta have your henchmen do it for you.” He spits on the ground. “Coward.”

Quick as lightning, Hux’s fist flashes out and catches Poe across the cheek. Poe grins, sharp and feral. “You know, Armitage, that’s more than I gave you credit for,” he tells him before raising his fists and striking back.

The room descends into chaos and Ben’s not sure who is fighting who anymore. All he really knows is one thing: he needs to keep Rey safe. He shouldn’t have this attachment to a girl whose name he barely knows, but that’s not important. He just... He has to make sure she’s okay and she makes it through this okay. And you know what, this is the strongest he’s felt about anything in ages, so he’s just going to... go with it. It’s what his mother would probably want him to do.

(Oh God, this is definitely the wrong thing for him to do.)

She wraps her hand around his wrist and pulls his back close to her front, pressing herself up against him, and he winces a little bit at the feel of her breasts against his back because _he is not getting turned on again right now_ , not in the middle of this fight. Her other arm comes up across his shoulders and neck and she pushes him down. “They can’t know you’re here,” she whispers. “We’ll be in loads of trouble if they find out a guest was here and saw this whole mess.” “But it’s not your mess!” Ben’s hands tighten at his sides, but he crouches like Rey directs him to. “They started this!”

“One group of us has all the power in this situation, Ben,” she says, and she sounds too goddamned tired for how young she has to be. “I’ll give you a guess as to who it is.”

A tiny blonde girl stands on a table near the front of the room and screams, a sound that curdles his blood. “Run!” she screams. “They’re going to burn the barn! Everyone--” She’s pulled off her perch and Ben hopes it was by a friend, but he just doesn’t know. Rey pulls him again, eyes wide and terrified as the crowd surges forward to the exit.

The unmistakable odor of gasoline hits his nose and he swears his whole body recoils. He retches, and he’d stop to throw up if they had the _time_. But they don’t, they don’t, they don’t, and he just has to move and keep moving, even as a match is struck and lit and thrown onto the gasoline-soaked floor in the left corner near the doorway. The fire roars into life like it’s angry at its summoning. Nearly everyone is out of the building by the time the fire is lit, and even Rey and Ben, who had been in the back of the crowd, stumble out into the cool night air only seconds after the fire is started. And then Hux and his crew emerge, too, and everyone stands staring at the building.

Then Rose runs up to them, tears streaming down her face, and says, “Have you guys seen Finn and Poe?”

Hux turns on his heel and strides away from the scene, his goonies following close behind. Rose watches them go and waits until they’re out of sight, then tears forward--

Right into the burning building.

Rey sprints after her, and, after a few seconds and a muffled curse, Ben runs after them both.

“Finn! Poe!” he hears Rose call, and Rey starts calling for them too.

Only seconds pass, but eternities can exist in seconds, and it’s almost certainly an eternity before they hear a faint coughing sound and find Finn and Poe lying on the ground with Poe’s left wrist tied to Finn’s right.

Rey drops to her knees in the ash and soot and Ben watches her fingers fumble with the knot before pulling her up. “We don’t have time,” he shouts. “Here!” He bends down and lifts Finn over one of his shoulders. “Put their arms over my head; I can get both of them.” She does, and Ben lifts Poe up, too. “Come on! We gotta get out of here!”

Ben stumbles from the smoke with Rose and Rey beside him. They only make it a few steps outside before Ben collapses into the wet grass. Rose kneels down and begins untying Finn and Poe’s wrists. Ben rolls onto his back and watches her. Someone sits in the grass beside him and takes his hand.

Rey.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. Or. Well. Perhaps it is not the distance, but it feels like it. Everything feels distant right now, except the weight of Rey’s hand in his. Lightning flashes overhead, then strikes just behind the burning building. Ben thinks the image will be branded onto the insides of his eyelids forever.

Rose looks down at the two men lying still in the grass. Finn is unconscious, Poe barely conscious, and neither of them look to be in great condition. Tears start to roll down Rose’s cheeks as she looks down at them. Above her, it starts to rain, like this diminutive girl has power over and sympathy of the skies themselves.

“Mr. Hux won’t fire you,” Rey says later. The five of them, Ben included, somehow, are ensconced in the small employee cabin shared by Finn and Poe. “If he does, he’ll have to deal with the fact that his beloved son committed arson and...” 

_Attempted double murder._

They know what Hux had tried to do, but none of them will say it, like bringing the words into this little place will rob them of any sense of security they have left.

“And anyway,” Rey continues like there aren’t tears shining in her too-bright eyes, “he won’t fire you.”

“Maybe,” Poe says, “but I can’t do any big routines like this.” He gestures to his whole body, wracked with exhaustion, and like his body is proving his point, he coughs harshly. “I mean, I can probably teach dance lessons, but I can’t do the show at the Coruscant.”

“Sure you can,” Finn says. He brings Poe’s hand to his mouth and brushes it against his lips. “You’ll be fine to do the show at the Coruscant.”

Rose shakes her head. “No.” She watches from the foot of the other bed. “No, he won’t. I’ve seen people who’ve inhaled this much smoke. It takes months for their lungs to recover. Sometimes, they never really do.”

Rey’s eyes are huge in her face. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No. If we can’t do the show in two weeks, they won’t ask us back next summer. We’re already looking at not having a job next summer as it is. I don’t think we should come back here.”

“Agreed,” Rose says immediately. “But there’s no way Poe will be able to do the show at the Coruscant.”

“I’ll do it,” Ben says before he even registers his mouth is moving. “You can teach me how to dance, Rey, and Poe, I know you can. Show me how to do it, and I will. I’ll do the show at the Coruscant.” “Why the hell are _you_ volunteering?” Poe says loudly. Finn places a hand on Poe’s shoulder, but Poe shrugs him off, glaring at Ben. “Another kid from upstairs trying to get into Rey’s panties?” Finn smacks him, but Poe just tells him, “What? You know we’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.”

“We have,” Finn says. His voice is scratchy. “But he doesn’t strike me as the type. I think he’s more the kind of rich kid who wants to save the world and fix everyone’s problems.”

Rey raises an eyebrow. “He’s sitting right here, guys.”

“I just want to help,” Ben tells them. And he’s articulate, he’s articulate, he’s going into his second year of law school at an Ivy League college, God knows he’s articulate-- but he can never seem to find the right words around these people. “I... This is... I just want to help,” he repeats lamely.

But Rey doesn’t seem to find it lame. There’s something in her smile, in her eyes when she looks at him, that makes him think she doesn’t think he’s an absolute lunatic. “Alright,” she says. “I’ll teach you to dance, really dance, if you’ll help me with the Coruscant show.”

“Of course I will,” he says, and he only barely manages to stop himself from promising her anything she wants. It scares him, a little, the hold this slight girl seems to already have over him. But he already knows that he can’t stop wanting it, wanting her. There’s something addictive about her presence, but this is probably the best addiction he’s ever had.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Rey says. “But you should go back to your parents. I’m sure they’ll be worried about where you’ve gone to.”

Ben’s mouth twists into a sort of smile and he assures her, “They probably haven’t noticed.” He doesn’t notice her eyebrows furrow and her lips narrow. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes,” she says, her face far away and thoughtful. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	2. tell me you're going to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i distinctly made no promises about regular updates? yeah.
> 
> so i'm sorry, i had a busy week and there's some family stuff, but you guys don't care about that. i'll still shoot for mondays with updates, but don't be surprised if (when) i'm a day or two late
> 
> i don't think there's anything that could be triggering in this chapter, but please let me know if there's anything you guys need me to warn for.

“No!” Poe snaps as Ben moves the wrong foot forward for the dozenth time. “God, Solo, I thought you took dance lessons. You’re supposed to be good at this.” 

“I said I took lessons, I didn’t say I was any good at them,” Ben snaps right back. “Will you calm down, Dameron?”

“You know,” Poe says thoughtfully, “I don't think I _will_.”

“Don’t be mean, Poe,” Rey says quietly. “He’s helping us.”

“Oh, great,” Poe says, running his hand through his hair with a certain harshness Ben hasn't seen in anyone outside himself. “He’s helping us, so we'll be out of a job next summer instead of this summer. Isn't that just fucking great of him?”

Her eyes narrow. “Poe,” she says sharply. “I know you're not doing great right now, but you don't have to take it out on everyone else.” She holds his gaze steadily as Poe tries, to the best of Ben's estimation, to burn through her with his eyes.

Finn walks into the big, open room and finds himself caught between Poe and Rey. “How... how's it coming, guys?”

“Great!” Rey says at the same time Poe says, “Terribly.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Can I see?”

“Sure!” Rey says.

“Only if you don't value your eyesight,” Poe mutters. Rey throws him a look but walks over to Ben regardless and takes his hand. Poe starts the music, and Rey and Ben begin the routine.

The man’s part is easy enough, really. With these sort of dances, the emphasis usually seems to be on the woman, and Ben is more than okay with that. By now, he's seen Rey perform the first part of this routine dozens of times, but every time, she's just as beautiful to him as the time before-- if not more so-- so graceful and elegant and sure of herself. Her hand comes up around his neck and cups the nape and he slowly brings his hand down her side, trying desperately not to touch her too much. She spins out, and then he brings her back in for a few bars of a basic step.

“You’re doing fine,” she whispers.

“Shh,” he whispers in return. “Can’t talk. Have to think.” 

A little giggle escapes her as she turns to face forward. He turns, a beat behind her, and they step forward together before returning to their basic dance position. Poe cuts the music.

“And that’s all he’s managed to learn.”

“Well,” Finn says in the sort of tone that suggests he’s trying very hard to be reasonable, “it hasn’t even been a full day yet. I think you’re doing fine.” He directs the last statement to Ben, who’s much too surprised at actually being addressed to respond.

Rey rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. Finn, will you please get Poe out of here? I’m sick of his bitching.”

“I’m not bitching!” Poe insists.

Until Finn gives him a bit of a look and says, “You kind of are.”

Poe shuts his mouth.

And when Finn takes his hand and pulls him out of the chair he’d been lounging in, slings Poe’s arm around his neck, and starts walking them out of the room, well, Poe goes quietly.

“Thank God.” Rey closes her eyes and collapses on the floor. “I need a break,” she calls up to Ben, “and now that he’s not breathing down our necks, we can have a real one.”

Just like everything else he does around Rey, he sits down next to her slowly and awkwardly.

“Um,” he says.

She opens her eyes and smiles up at him. “Are you always this articulate?” she asks, teasing and sweet. Her eyes shine out of her face like twin suns, and he swears he’s being pulled into orbit around them.

“Actually,” he says, and he’s not quite sure how he’s managed to make his tongue work but it’s working, thank God, “I just finished my first year of law school.”

“Oh.” He looks at her a minute, trying to puzzle out what she means. So she clarifies, “I mean, I’m not surprised, it’s just-- you must be older than I thought, then.”

“Twenty-four,” he tells her. And it occurs to him, he should ask-- “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

His eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“I graduated high school.” She isn’t looking at him now, opting to fiddle with the hem of her shirt instead. Her voice is almost defensive, like she’s practiced in making the argument, when she says, “I’m mature for my age. I’ll be nineteen at the beginning of September.”

“Okay,” he says, because what else can he say?

“Where are you going to law school?”

He knows what she’s doing, changing the subject like that, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe, probably, he’d let this little slip of a girl do whatever she liked with him. “Well... I was going to, uh. Harvard. But I transferred, uh, at the end of this year. To Columbia, actually.”

“Oh,” Rey says, and he feels even more like an asshole name-dropping rich kid, which he didn’t really think was possible. “Why did you transfer?”

Something in Ben’s stomach tightens. Relax, he reminds himself. It’s a perfectly innocent question. She has, of course, no way of knowing... “It’s a long story,” is all he says.

“Right,” she says quietly. Her eyes focus on her hands.

“Maybe,” he says, with some effort, “maybe I’ll tell it to you? Another time?”

She looks up and smiles. “I’d like that.”

His mouth goes dry. “Okay.”

“And I’m sorry,” she says, “about Poe. He’s just... really protective of me. His family sort of took me in a few years ago, and... We’ve worked here for a couple summers, and there have been some guys who were sort of jerks... Just... Poe and I, we don’t really trust easily. None of our crew do. I just want you to know... It’s not personal, from him. It’s just all of that and he’s not feeling good and, well, you know--”

“Hey, Rey, I get it. It’s okay. It’s nice,” he says, thinking of his own family, “to have someone looking out for you.” He wishes... Well, there’s no point in that.

“I’m not really used to it,” she confesses. Her arms are around her knees, now, drawing them close to her chest.

“Me either.” Ben grimaces and laughs. “No, sorry, I don’t want to be all ‘oh, poor little rich kid’. I just... want to say you’re not alone, I guess? In feeling that way.” 

Rey’s mouth twists into a little smile, and Ben has watched her smile today at guests and at other employees, but this little tiny smile is vulnerable and real, and by virtue of that, it’s more beautiful than every other one of her smiles put together. She releases her knees and lets one of them bump one of his. “Neither are you,” she says, maybe a little wryly, maybe a little seriously. Then she stands and extends her hand to Ben. “Come on,” she says. “Break time’s over. We’ve got work to do.”

 

 

“There you are,” his mother says as he slides into his seat. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

“I’ve just been... doing things.”

His mother gives him a look, but evidently decides not to pursue it. “With some kids your age?”

“Yes,” he says. Then he thinks of Rey. _Eighteen_. “Well, sort of.”

Leia gives him another look, but lets that one go, too. “Your father and I spent most of the day on the lake. It was nice, wasn’t it, Han?”

“Hm?” he says. Leia smacks his shoulder, and he tears his gaze from the window. “Oh, yes, very nice.”

“Will you please pay attention?” she says quietly. “I’m trying to have a conversation with my family?” 

“‘Pay attention’? You sound like a goddamned Sunday school teacher,” he grouses, but neither Ben or Leia take it much to heart. That’s just Han’s way, they both know that.

Even if it can sting.

“‘Goddamned Sunday school teacher’?” Leia raises an eyebrow. “Surely that’s an oxymoron.”

Ben’s father grins, sharp and quick. “You shouldn’t swear,” he says. “It’s unbecoming for a lady.”

Leia sighs, but she’s smiling. “Han Solo,” she tells him, “you are the most exhausting man I’ve ever met.”

“Ah, but that’s why you like me, sweetheart. No one could keep up with you, but I slow you down just enough that I’ve got a shot.” Han winks. Ben feels nauseous.

“If you two are going to flirt, I’ll need to leave,” he says. “It’s going to make me sick.”

“He’s so dramatic,” Han says to Leia. “He gets that from your family.”

Leia snorts. “Oh, of course. You’re not a dramatic person at all.”

“No, I’m not. Glad we agree.”

“Gross,” Ben mutters.

His mother’s head snaps back to look at him. “I heard that, young man,” she tells him.

“ _Good_ ,” he says. Really, he’d much rather have his parents flirting than fighting, which is their other favorite activity-- but he isn’t about to _tell them_ that.

Then music begins playing again, and Ben’s eyes fly from his mother to the floor, where Poe and Rey have arrived to oversee the nightly dancing. Rey’s wearing a different dress tonight, a silver-gray thing in nearly precisely the same style as her other one. It makes her eyes look greener. She's gorgeous, of course. She’d be gorgeous in anything.

“So,” his mother says, and somehow, he manages to tear his eyes from Rey and look at her, “what's her name?”

Ben's mouth dries faster than the Sahara after a rainstorm. “Sorry, whose name?” he asks.

“Hers.” Leia nods toward Rey, who's smiling and dancing with a little boy.

“There’s no reason for me to know, I’m sure,” he says smoothly.sn't

She raises an eyebrow. “You know,” she says dryly, “I know when you’re lying. I thought we established that. Now, what did you say her name is?”

He sticks his lower lip out like a petulant child. “I don’t have to tell you.”

“Since when has not telling your mother something ever worked?” Han snorts. “Rule one, kid. A woman is always gonna find out.”

Ben narrows his eyes at his father, but he knows Han is right. Leia Organa Solo is a terrifying force of nature. He doesn’t have to want to tell her something in order for her to find out about it. He sighs. “Her name is Rey. With an ‘e’.”

His mother hums. “She’s pretty.”

“Yes.”

“Is that who you were with today?”

Ben doesn’t answer.

“So that’s a yes, then,” Han says.

“Actually, it was a ‘please stop talking’,” Ben says with obvious boredom. Faked boredom, actually, but what kind of a law student would he be if he couldn’t fake boredom?

Rey catches his eye over the heads of the crowd and smiles at him, and he couldn’t help the slow grin that spreads across his face in response if there were a gun to his head.

Leia tells Han in an undertone, “Oh, it was definitely a yes.”

The first song finishes and Ben watches with mixed anticipation and muted horror as Rey makes her way over to his table. Which is, of course and unfortunately, also his parents’ table. His parents, who are on the edge of their seats. Well, his mother is, anyway. His father is watching with a strong but desperately concealed interest. He’s never gotten over the idea that men shouldn’t show emotion, which definitely didn’t help Ben any-- not that he’s still upset about that or anything.

Rey stops right by his chair. “Would you like to dance with me?” she asks him quietly.

“Hello!” his mother says. “You’re a wonderful dancer. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, though.”

Behind Rey’s back, Ben gives his mother a glare, which she, predictably, pays no mind.

“Rey Niima.”

“A lovely name,” she cooes. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Um.” Rey bites her lip. “My mother was a dancer, I think. I’ve been dancing since before I can remember, and then my partner’s mother was a professional dancer when she was younger, and she started giving me lessons.”

There is more to the story, Ben knows; he can read it in the shift of her body and the curl of her mouth, and he resolves to ask her about it later. For now, though...

“I’d be delighted to dance with you, Miss Niima,” he tells her, admittedly formally. He stands and takes her hand, bowing to her and brushing the back of her hand with his lips. His eyes lock with hers.

She shivers.

 

 

Ben leaves the room with Rey, when the dancing is done. Not side-by-side, of course. Not hand-in-hand-- though he suspects no one would say anything about him if he did. Other than perhaps “nice going” or “congratulations”.

What a disgusting thought.

He’s not sure how they end up here, together, walking along the banks of the little stream that runs through the grounds, carefully curated to give off the appearance of being wild without any intention of actually allowing it to be so. But however this happened, Ben is starting to think that perhaps God or the universe or whoever doesn’t hate him nearly as much as he once thought.

“How did you really learn how to dance?” he asks her.

Her hands tighten in the fabric of her dress. “I don’t make a habit of lying,” she says.

“No, oh God, I didn’t mean to accuse you--”

“Shh, I know,” is all she says, and he falls silent. “But I don’t make a habit of lying, so even when people ask questions I’d rather not answer, I tell the truth. Just... not all of the truth, sometimes. So what I told, um, your parents?--” he nods to confirm her assumption-- “was true. I do think my mother was a dancer, from what I can remember. And I have been dancing since before I can remember. And Poe’s mother did give me lessons.”

“What didn’t you tell them?” he asks softly. It feels almost like the words have been drawn out of his mouth than something greater than himself. Immediately, he says, “I’m sorry, that was invasive of-- you don’t have to tell me--”

“No,” she says with a strange look on her face. “I don’t mind. I want to tell you, I think. But-- first, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” She can have anything, anything she wants from him, and God, he’s barely known her for a day and this can’t be right, can’t be healthy, but she can have anything she wants from him.

“Do you feel like... like there’s something...?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind, it’s silly, I shouldn’t have...”

“No. No, it isn’t silly. It’s not just you,” he says. Barely, just barely, his hand brushes hers, and it’s like his every nerve, his whole being, his everything is suddenly concentrated on that tiny place of contact between them. Hardly even breathing, he admits to her, “I feel it too.”

They’ve stopped walking. How could he possibly spare any brain power for moving arms and legs and feet when Rey was looking up at him like that, breathing shallowly through slightly-parted lips? His throat bobs and his fingers itch. He wants to touch her, he wants to reach out and smooth his hands across her mostly-bared arms, his fingers through her hair. He wants-- he wants--

He wants to kiss her.

Rey clears her throat and tears her eyes from his, and the spell cast over him, or maybe over them both, breaks, though perhaps not in the traditional ideal of spell-breaking. Usually, in fairy tales or children’s stories, once the spell breaks, all hold it had over its subjects is released and they are returned to normal life. This is a half-broken spell, at best, as if it were stopped before it could reach full strength, but it remained very much enforced upon its subjects-- or upon Ben, at least, because he can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth.

“I never knew my father,” she tells him. “I don’t have the slightest idea what happened to him or who he could’ve been. I think my mother’s story was that he died in the war, but, well, it would make for a convenient lie. And I didn’t really know my mother, either.” Rey has, he sees now, been leading them toward a little spot she is obviously familiar with, just downhill from where the barn stood only one night ago. There are some large rocks by the river’s edge, and she sits on one of them and pats the space next to her, so he sits, too. “She died when I was six. Loved the bottle more than me.”

“Rey...” he murmurs, but she shakes her head. She doesn’t look at him.

She looks so, terribly young in the moonlight.

“Poe’s mother taught me because I would go to her classes and stand outside and just watch. It was before my mother died, but we didn’t have any extra money, of course. So she took pity on this small, obviously poverty-stricken child and she gave me private lessons at her home. It turns out she knew my mother. They had danced together, a long time ago. I asked her, once, if she knew someone she thought could be my father. She said she couldn’t be sure.”

He wants to touch her even more now, because she’s vulnerable and he wants to comfort her, and for all that he’s in law school and his mother’s a politician, no one in his family is very good at “expressing their feelings,” so touch is the only way he’s ever learned to tell someone he cared about them-- but he won’t touch her, not without her permission, especially not when she’s vulnerable like this. It wouldn’t be right.

“My mother didn’t have any family, or at least, not that I knew of, and certainly not any that the government could find-- though I don’t suspect they tried too terribly hard. So the Dameron family took me in. Poe is their only child, so they could afford to, I suppose, though we’ve never had much. He’s seven years older than me, so we weren’t friends, exactly, until the last couple of years, but he’s always looked out for me, even though he can be an ass.” Her knees are tucked up to her chest and Ben wonders if it’ll ruin her dress to be sitting out here like this, but he doesn’t know anything about such a thing and he supposes she does, so he doesn’t wonder for very long. She sighs and shakes her head like she’s shaking her smile back into place. “So, that’s my sob story.”

“Rey...” he says, with all the softness he can possibly give her. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay, really!” She shrugs and smiles too-brightly. “I mean, I won’t say I’m over it, or anything, but it doesn’t hurt like it used to.” But then something catches inside her, in her mind or her soul or her throat or her eyes, because her voice shakes and tears well as she admits, “But I don’t think I’ll ever forget when I went to wake her up and I realized... she’d left me, my mother had left me, and now I had no one. I just... I was six, of course, so I didn’t know a lot of things-- but I didn’t know it was possible to feel so alone.”

That same thing inside her catches another thread of emotion and tugs at it and suddenly she’s unraveling next to him, tears running down her face, and he finally cannot help himself. He reaches out and cups her face in his palm, lets his thumb sweep over her cheeks and wipe her tears away.

“Sorry,” she says shakily. “It’s okay, I’m alright. Sorry.”

“You’re not alone,” he blurts, and his mind flashes back to the sunny afternoon they spent in a dance studio. He watches her shiver, sees the goosebumps erupt across her skin, and, without a second though, slides his jacket from his shoulders and carefully places it over hers. “Um. I know, I told you that already. I just need you to know. You aren’t. _Never_ ,” he tells her, with a vehemence that surprises himself. _You have me_ , is what he doesn’t say.

“I know,” she says softly, and this time, the wryness, the cynicism is absent from her voice. A beautifully soft sad smile graces her face. “I hope you do, too.”

He’s still knelt in front of her, both hands now cradling her face, drying the tears from her skin. She’s stopped crying, and he thinks they’re probably both grateful for that, but the absence of her tears lend a different weight to their current position, one that’s much more dangerous. He wants again, and it terrifies him, this bottomless wanting. It isn’t right, for him to want her like this. But the wanting doesn’t seem to care much for that; it _is_ , whether Ben wants it or not.

And maybe he does want it, anyway.

Rey’s eyes are focused on his lips, he thinks. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though. Yes, she said she felt something, but still... “I should go,” she whispers. “Rose... um, Rose will be worried. That I haven’t come back to our room yet.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s late,” he says. But he can’t seem to stop staring at her face. Her face, that he’s holding between his hands, which he can’t seem to stop doing, either.

Rey tears her eyes away from him and looks down at her hands. “Um. Thank you, for the jacket. And for listening to me.”

“Of course,” Ben tells her. A moment has passed, he knows, but somehow, it doesn’t concern him like things usually do. Somehow, he has a feeling another moment will come, and it will be more _right_ when it does.

Rey takes his hand as they stand and he walks her back to the cabin she shares with Rose. When she says goodnight, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

It’s better than anything he could possibly ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	3. this overload

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the good news is that i'm moved into my dorm.
> 
> the bad news is that classes start tuesday.
> 
> but the best news, and what we should really be focusing on, is that i have this fresh new chapter for y'all!

Ben falls into a sort of routine during the next week of summer. Wake up, have breakfast with his parents, spend his day dancing, usually with Rey, have lunch with his parents, dance some more, and have dinner with his parents before going off with Rey and her friends. He actually gets along with Finn and Rose, even though Poe still doesn’t really like him. Rey doesn’t like that, so he does his best, but Poe seems determined to dislike him, and Ben has to say he doesn’t particularly care for Dameron, either.

His mother doesn’t say anything more about Rey. Not really, anyway. She watches him watch her, he knows; she’s not nearly as subtle as she likes to think she is. One night, his mother tells him in a low voice to be careful.

“What do you mean?” His jaw is tight as he bites out the words.

“I want grandkids, but not now,” his mother says lightly. “You’re both a little young for that yet.” Leia has, of course, since found out much more about Rey than Ben would ever dream of telling her. She has her ways, Han told Ben once in a low tone, and so she either now knows or will know _everything_.

“Mom!” Ben sputters. “We aren’t-- we aren’t even-- I’m too--” old? ugly? broken?-- “for her, anyway, and she’s-- we’re just _friends_ \--”

Leia Organa Solo gives her son the same look that has cowed senators and diplomats and representatives and presidents and royalty alike. “I was her same age when I met your father. I’m not saying it doesn’t _matter_ , but being the right age for someone is a matter of personality, too, not just numbers. Be careful, Benny,” she says, and he’d like to snap at her, find that fiery, caustic version of himself that existed only a few months ago and didn't give a fuck about what his _family_ thought, but she says it so softly, in a sweet way that reminds him of _five years old curled up in her lap_ , and all his fight is gone.

“I’m always careful,” he tells her instead.

“And I don't just mean with sex,” she says, and Ben chokes on his own spit. “I mean be careful with her and with yourself too. I don't want either one of you getting hurt.”

“Mom...” he rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to act like this is serious. It’s not even _anything_ at all.”

“I’m not blind, Benjamin. I can see the way you look at each other.” She takes a sip of her wine. “If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people. Or different people making the same eyes at each other.” She shrugs. “Whichever.”

“ _Mom_.”

“Your Aunt Maz told me that one when I met your father, and I’ve just been waiting for the day I could use it on you.”

Ben sighs and presses his fingertips to his forehead. “Glad you had the chance, Mom.”

“Oh, believe me, I am too.”

 

 

“And one, two, three-and-four, five, six, seven, hit eight, and turn, two, three, four--” Ben turns the wrong way and stumbles and Poe stops counting. He sighs loudly and looks at the ceiling before muttering, “Lord give me strength.”

“Out,” Rey says sharply.

“I’m not leaving you _alone_ \--”

“ _Out_ ,” she says again. Her jaw clenches as her eyes flash dangerously.

Poe holds his hands up and backs away. He doesn’t turn his back to her until he is safely out of the room. This, Ben thinks, must be what having siblings is like. He’d always wondered.

She turns back to Ben and holds her arms up. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go again.”

“Why?”

“We need to keep practicing.” And she doesn’t say “obviously,” but her tone makes it quite clear that it’s implied. “Come on,” she repeats.

“No,” Ben says, digging a hand into his hair and tugging on it. “No, I mean, what’s the point? There's only a-- a _week_ ,” he says, breathing hard through his nose, “and we’re nowhere near _close_ to being ready to perform.” Ben throws his hands up (rather dramatically, because he really _is_ a Skywalker) and says, “We haven't even tried the lift yet, and that's going to be the hardest part--"

“Calm down,” Rey commands him, standing tall and somehow, despite their height difference, managing to look down on him. She tilts her head to the side. “You have a car?”

“Yeah,” he says. What he really means is he can steal his parents’ and they probably won't notice or care, but he isn't going to tell her that.

“Then let's go.” She grabs his hand and strides out the door, and he can't even think to do anything except follow her.

He does manage to ask, “Wait, where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” she tells him vaguely, not even looking behind her. “It’s a surprise. You'll like it.”

He will. He'd like it even if she dragged him into the woods and murdered him.

Well.

That may be a little dramatic. Again. But would he even really be Ben Solo if he's not constantly and consistently dramatic?

“Hold on,” he tells her. “I have to get the keys.”

She follows him into the guest cabin he and his parents are staying in. It's fairly spacious because it, like the rest of the resort, is clearly a space for wealthy people who don't prefer to be reminded of their wealth-- or who pretend they don't, or who like to pretend to be wealthier than they are. So the cabin is large, consisting of two bedrooms and bathrooms along with a sitting room, but it's fairly simply decorated, though every piece of furniture speaks clearly of high cost. Rey’s eyes are wide and her steps are careful and she stands in the middle of the living room like she’s afraid to touch anything.

Ben finds he doesn’t care for her discomfort. It’s not a _surprising_ find, of course, but still.

“Rey,” he says, and when she looks at him, it’s almost like she’s clinging to him with her gaze, like he’s her life preserver in high-rising water. It’s an addictive look, really, and he makes another discovery: he wants to be a solid presence for her, someone she can depend on. He wants to give her everything she needs and anything she wants. Rey should never have been denied anything, and something deep and instinctual inside him tells him he needs to ensure that lack is compensated. “If you’d rather wait for me...” _If you’d rather not go into a bedroom with me in any context_ , he doesn’t say. “You can sit.” He gestures to the closest sofa.

She doesn’t. “That’s alright,” she says instead, and when he moves toward his parents’ bedroom, she follows, albeit tentatively.

Rey stands just inside the doorway, looking around at the mostly tidy room while Ben digs through the contents of the dresser. “Come on,” he mutters. “No way you’ve changed... Aha!” he exclaims as he pulls the keys from his father’s sock drawer. Right where he thought they’d be.

“So when you say you have a car...” Rey says, her lips quirking to the side.

“This one is my parents’,” he admits unabashedly. “I have a car, but it’s home in New York. I think my mother thought if they let me drive my own vehicle, I’d make an escape halfway through the first day.”

“Would you have?”

Ben shrugs. “Probably not, because that’s about when I saw you.”

Rey sucks in a breath and bites at her bottom lip, looks at the ground, like she’s trying not to smile and she doesn’t want him to notice. A warm, tingling feeling spreads through Ben’s body when he looks at that expression on her face, soft and happy.

A third discovery: he wants to make her look like that all the time.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s get out of here.”

 

 

“Turn left here,” Rey points. “And we’ll keep on this road for a while.”

Ben turns the wheel. “Okay.”

They’re quiet for a while, Ben dutifully keeping his eyes on the road. Then Rey takes a deep breath and says, “Can I... can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says without an ounce of hesitation. It scares him a little, how ready he is to bare himself for her, but it doesn’t scare him at all, either, because it just feels _right_. Somehow, he trusts her. Somehow, he might already love her.

Rey’s feet are resting on her seat, knees pulled up to her chest. She looks small again. She’s good at that, he’s noticed. “Why don’t you get along with your parents?”

He swallows. It's only fair for her to ask, only fair for him to tell her after what she's shared with him-- but that doesn't make it an easy thing for him to talk about. “It’s--" he sighs. “It's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just... difficult for me. I've never talked about it with anyone else.”

She holds a hand out to him. The rest of her body is still closed off and nervous, but her hand reaches for him, and it makes something shift deep inside him to see her try to comfort him, even in the face of her own discomfort.

He takes her hand, lacing their fingers together, and rests their joined hands between their two seats. “My parents have always had a... tempestuous relationship. She was young when they got married, and he was young in other ways. I was born almost exactly eight months after they got married, so you can draw your own conclusions from that. Everyone else certainly has.”

Rey’s legs have fallen open until she's sitting cross-legged on her seat. Her other hand comes up and she runs her fingers up and down the outside of his arm.

“I don't think they were ready for a child. They weren't ready to be parents, that's for sure. They loved me, but I wasn't exactly an easy child. They didn't know how to deal with me. I've been... haunted is the best word I can think of.” He looks steadily at the road in front of them as they move down it. “I was sad and quiet and lonely and-- and _angry_. They didn't know how to deal with me,” he repeats. “And there was a lot of pressure, too, growing up the son of a senator and a general and a famous pilot. I always had to be who they wanted me to be.”

Rey grips his hand tighter and whispers, “You don't have to tell me anything, Ben.”

“No.” He shakes his head and chances a quick look at her. “I want to.” Why? Why does he want to share these things with her, a girl he’s known for a little over a week? He wonders quite frequently over their connection, but has come to the conclusion that he cannot explain it. All he knows is her, and that she knows him better than he knows his own soul, and if she asks him to bare it to her, then bare it he not only will, and willingly, but _must_ , as if something between them will cause pain if he tries to conceal anything from her.

“They sent me away,” he tells her. “When I was younger. To a boarding school my uncle ran for-- well, they called it “gifted students,” and we were all bright, but we all knew that it really meant our parents couldn’t deal with us. Or they didn’t want to. I can’t ever decide which one is worse.”

Rey’s thumb sweeps over the back of his hand soothingly but she doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, if he wants to, anyway. God, his Rey is an angel.

 _His Rey._ Hm. It sounds... nice.

He shakes his head and continues. “I had a falling-out with them my first year of college over where they wanted me to go and what they wanted me to be and just... all the expectations they’d had for me my whole life and they couldn’t ever be bothered to care about me. They sent me away.” His voice shakes over the last sentence. “I didn’t talk to them for almost five years.”

“What changed?” she asks quietly. His face tightens. “You don’t have to tell me,” she reassures him. “I can’t,” he says, matching her soft tone of voice. “Not right now.” Not when she looks at him that way, that way that he never wants to stop, that way he knows would stop if she knew... if she knew how _weak_ he was. Is, maybe. Who knows?

“That's alright, Ben.” She grasps his hand in both of hers and brings it to her lips, impulsively brushing her mouth across his knuckles. The tips of his ears turn red. Then she cries, “Oh!” and straightens in her seat. She points. “Turn off right there.”

He does as she asks.

“I think it's best to park right here and walk the rest of the way because the road is pretty bad, but we don't have to if you'd rather not.”

Ben pulls off the road and puts the car into park. He practically jumps out of the car and rushes around it and by the time Rey looks over to open her door, he’s already opened it for her and holding a hand out for her. She giggles. “Silly man,” she says affectionately, “I could get the door by myself.”

“I know,” he says-- and that’s all he says, hand still outstretched, waiting for her to take it. She does, and he pulls her from the car. Rey pops to her feet and then raises herself onto her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You, Benjamin Solo, are sweet,” she tells him, but she’s smiling widely and pressed up close to him and so it has to be a compliment and he needs to say something, but since she’s _pressed up close to him_ , Ben really can’t think well enough to respond to it. But Rey doesn't seem to need a response from him; as quickly as she's there, she's pulling away, grasping his hand and leading him toward whatever her goal has been.

“I’m really not,” he says. Well, _mumbles_ might be a more accurate word.

“You really are,” she informs him cheerfully without even turning her head to look at him. She ducks under a few tree branches and sidesteps a couple others before dropping Ben’s hands and presenting to him...

“A lake?” he says with an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “You were very secretive about this lake.”

Rey’s eyes narrow and she bumps her hip against his. Her lips drop into a pout and Ben, quite blatantly-- Ben thinks _oh fuck_ because _he hasn’t seen her pout like this before and he didn’t really think it was possible for her to have any more hold over him but it turns out that if Rey made that face and asked him to, he’d burn down the world for her_.

“Hey,” she says. “This is my special lake. It’s _private_.” She gives him the cutest smile when she tells him that, tipping her chin up playfully.

Maybe it’s just that he loves every expression her face makes, each one more than the last. He swallows hard before attempting a normal tone of voice when he says, “Oh, really?”

“Well,” Rey says, her smile turning small and secretive and mischievous, “maybe not, but to the best of my knowledge, no one ever comes here except me.”

That confession sends warmth shooting all the way down to his toes. “Oh,” he says. His voice is a little strangled, so he clears his throat. “So why are we here?”

Her mischievous smile grows. “I hope you brought your swimsuit,” she says, and that’s the only warning he has before a five foot seven, maybe one-hundred-ten pound blur of brunette hair tackles him and fucking throws him into the middle of the lake.

Ben emerges spluttering. “Oh my... fuck... _Rey_!”

“Cannonball!” she shouts gleefully before taking a running leap off the shoreline into the center of the lake-- managing, of course, to send a wave of water over Ben’s head.

He doesn’t realize until she swims up to him and places her hands on his chest that she’d stripped down to a camisole and underwear. He can see her nipples pebbling beneath the camisole and despite the chill of the water he can feel blood starting to flow as his cock stirs in interest, which he _does not need it to do right now, thank you very much_.

“Come on,” she says. “I’m going to show you how to do the lift. Poe taught me lifts in water. I can fall with no consequences, so you don’t need to worry about dropping me. You ready?”

“Uh, I guess,” Ben says.

He’s terrified.

Rey knows it, but it doesn’t matter. She places his hands in the right spot and walks him through the motions without the weight of her body. 

It takes a few tries, but when Ben hoists Rey above his head, she starts laughing, looking for all the world like she’s flying, and he feels like he’s flying too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this is the first multichapter i've ever posted for this pairing and only the second multichap i've posted ever, in my three-ish years of posting things i've written onto ao3, because multichaps scare me. i make no promises for a regular update schedule, but for the next few weeks, at least, i'll try to update on mondays. however, i start college at the beginning of september, so that might mean some changes. i'm just not sure yet.
> 
> okay, so hux and his gang of thugs come into the old barn. hux calls finn and poe f*gs and lights the barn on fire. it's unclear who, but it may be assumed it was someone under hux's direction if not hux himself, but someone ties finn and poe's wrists together, knocks them out, and leaves them inside the burning building. rose runs into the building when she realizes finn and poe are missing. rey follows her, and ben follows rey. they find poe and finn and are able to successfully carry them from the burning building without any lasting harm being done to either man.
> 
> and if you're still with me: 1. thank you, 2. i'm sorry, 3. i love you!


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